Wicked Rage Addie Claire Morgan
Wicked rage lies in wait at the pit of my soul,
Boiling, festering, screaming from within.
Freedom denied fuels the twisted storm,
Until the gleaming outer shell becomes thin.
Decades were spent repairing pinholes,
Plastering goodness over the pain.
Writhing moments burst spheres of anger,
Which threaten to expose the insane.
Passionate obsessions manipulate my mind,
Tranquilizing the incessant chatter.
Questions unleashed occupy the space,
Where answers wound and shatter.
Conscience empowered by inherent beliefs,
Unveil the benevolence to survive.
Reaching beyond earthbound majesty,
Celestial compassions revive.
